


Cosmic's Collection of Short Stories

by cosmicfrownies



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anthology, Creepy, Disconnection, Disturbing Themes, Edgy, Gen, Heavy gore??, Medium Gore, Mild Gore, No Romance, No Smut, Original Character(s), Original Fiction, Short, Short Stories, Some people may find some of this content disturbing, Strong Language, disturbing imagery, some strong language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-13
Packaged: 2020-08-20 12:35:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20227948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicfrownies/pseuds/cosmicfrownies
Summary: This is a collection of some short stories that I've written over the past few months or so. If I write more, I'll post them.They don't have any specific theme. I just write.This is completely original work. If you're looking for fanfiction, keep scrolling. Thanks.





	1. Bus stop.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a story called "Bus stop." that I wrote. Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This may contain slightly disturbing imagery to some. It also has a vague reference to vomit. If any of this disturbs you in any way, I'd advise you not to read.

I gaze at my watch. I cannot recall how long it’s been since I first stood here. The time has gone by and yet I’ve stood and stood. I am waiting for a bus, but I have no idea where it’s going to or when it will come. I’ve seen the passersby come and go. They’ve gotten on their busses and I’ve never seen them again. 

I don’t believe my bus has ever come. It’s very very late. My hair, now matted, has grown down to my ankles. I recall once seeing hair treatments, way long ago, or perhaps it was simply a week or so ago. If that’s the case, they’re extremely efficient, well, if I used them. 

I sense someone approaching. I look their way. The woman walks with a pep in her step, something I haven’t seen in years. Her bright aura is a stark contrast from the dreary nights I live through. She seems completely artificial. Thankfully she sits on the bench next to mine and minds her own business. She stares down at a tiny box, it, too, has a bright aura. The woman begins speaking into it and I can’t help but to zone out. I don’t care about other people’s business. As much as I peoplewatch, I can never seem to care. Did I use to care? 

The sky is pitch-black, the thin, wispy, gray clouds seem to form a miasma. Was breathing always this difficult? I look to the woman next to me. Her tiny box is gone. She’s just sitting there. Her eyes have rolled back into her head. She’s in a dormant state. Everything clicks back into place. 

The miasma is gone. The woman is gone. 

I continue to sit there. Is this all my life has been? Sitting at a bench, waiting for my bus? Have I been here for eternity? What is eternity? Questions race through my mind. It’s overwhelming. I zone out, thoughts coming and going, I couldn’t focus on any of them. I feel myself rocking back and forth slightly to a dull rhythm. Wasn’t there a strange pounding in my chest? I put a hand… Wait, what is that? 

This weird appendage… Nope, nevermind, it’s just an arm. 

I put a hand to my chest and feel around. I think there’s a hole. Sure enough, there’s pounding. I retrieve my hand and continue sitting there. 

A swarm of papers fly by. One hits me in the face. It’s blank. I continue sitting there.  
A man comes by and sits right next to me. My stomach twists, the bile is rising. The putrid smell of body odor overpowers my other senses and everything is fuzzy. He pulls out a book. I haven’t read a book in ages. Maybe it’s just been a week or so. I don’t remember. 

A bus stops in front of the aptly named bus stop. The man stands up and evaporates into thin air. The miasma grows. The book remains. The bus drives away. I grab the book and rub its leatherbound cover. It’s like human contact. 

I caress the book and all of its pages. The smell of the book is euphoric. The words on the pages are completely meaningless. I can’t even read a word. I continue indulging in the book. 

Am I human? My skin is gray and cold. My eyes are glassy. How do I know that? My eyelids aren’t there. I feel my eyes. I poke at them. They’re glass. 

I flip through the pages of the book mindlessly. My fingers touch something else. Embedded into a blank page--maybe it has words, I can’t tell--is some sort of note. How do you even do that? I pick at the note, surprisingly it comes out easily. I scrutinize it. 

The neon light of a sign far off in the distance--maybe it’s closer--hits it just right. I read what it says. 

ONE WAY TICKET  
YOU KNOW WHERE  
YOU KNOW WHEN  
COME… OR ELSE

My tired glassy eyes and my tired glassy mind glaze over the words. What is with this vague nonsense? Is this a threat? I feel as though I’ve seen something of the sort before. 

No sooner do I put the ticket back into the page when a bus comes. This bus seems a bit off. Its fumes fuel the miasma. Its squeaking and creaking breaks and rattling body are like no other. It stops. The driver stares into my eyes. Do I have a soul for them to stare into? I think I know the answer. 

I stand up for the first time in 27 years and walk onto the ride of my life, my judgment, and most importantly, my death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed. Please feel free to tell me how you felt about this one, I also quite like this one as well (again, not being conceited), or leave constructive criticism if you'd like.


	2. Artificial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short story I wrote called "Artificial".

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No warnings here! Enjoy.

The sun has been shining brighter than it ever has. A gentle heat tickles my skin. It’s fantastic. No longer are the freezing days of the hellish winter. The birds chirp, the butterflies’ wings shimmer and twinkle in the sunlight, and I’m working up a healthy sweat. The toxins leave my body through wondrous perspiration and the show goes on. 

I’ve been jogging around the park, but now I’m in these lovely meadows. I’ve taken my sneakers off. The lush grass gently caresses my feet. I dance around in the meadows, the sunbeams rain down upon me, I glisten in their light. The small flowers sway to the non-existent rhythm we dance to. 

I am completely embraced by warmth. I have never felt better. The heat embraces me and I become one with it. I feel the sun’s energy within me with the intensity of thousands of supernovae exploding inside me at once. It is cathartic. 

I continue to dance until the sun must say goodbye for the day. It bids me farewell and I, too, take my leave. It is unfortunate that I must leave this lovely grass and these flowers. 

I pluck a few blades of grass and pick a few flowers, killing them, but I’d just like to hold onto them for a moment longer. Perhaps I’ll press them and keep them forever. When all nature is gone because we’ve effectively destroyed the earth, I’ll have a few plants preserved for years as a momento. 

The moon’s light shines oh-so brightly and beautifully. The twinkling of the stars reflects into my eyes, or at least I assume so. Oh, if only I had someone here with me to tell me if they did. Maybe we’d enjoy this moment together too. 

The bustle of the city approaches. Dawn, too, approaches, but I can still spend time with the moon for a while. Far in the distance, the sun is rising. I look forward to it each and every time. However I enjoy the moon as well. 

The moon has much to offer. Her beauty compares to no other. Her light is gentle like the waves of the ocean rocking you back and forth. The darkness of the night once seemed solemn. The darkness is now a place to fill with your thoughts and imagination. I no longer imagine the horrid creatures out there. I only fill this pitch-black canvas with the biggest and brightest ideas. It seems as if they come true sometimes, or at least I can bask in them. 

Neon lights characterize the city. I bask in those as well. Everything is enjoyable. It’s such a pleasant way of life. 

I have vague memories of old times spent in this city. I remember jumping from store to store, filling my hands with more material possessions and leaving my pockets with less money. I have no idea why I used to live such a lifestyle. I remember I would come along with friends too. I don’t recall what happened, I assume we drifted apart. Who cares though? 

I can’t help but to feel a bit empty though. Talking to somebody might rekindle something within me. What would that be though? When was the last time I talked to somebody? Anybody? 

There is a girl standing off in the distance. She is absolutely radiant. The neon lights illuminate her face and she’s stunning. I think this is my opportunity. A lost soul like mine, standing there, gazing off into the distance beautifully. I feel so compelled to talk to her. And so I do. 

I make my way over to her. “Hello,” I smile at her. 

She continues gazing into the distance, her eyes glassy. I assume she did not hear me. She looks like a daydreamer. I think we’d get along quite nicely. 

“Hello,” I try again. 

The girl does not respond. She seems unfazed. Does my presence do nothing for her? Do I not have an air of something, perhaps boldness or allure, surrounding me? 

I reach out for her. My hand does not even brush against her seemingly-soft skin. Her delicate skin makes no contact with mine. My hand goes completely through her shoulder, and yet there’s nothing to be felt. 

The air goes stale. Or am I imagining that too? Suddenly the moon’s delicate light becomes violent. The darkness embraces me. The stars’ twinkles are eyes glaring down upon me. Everything feels absolutely terrible, disgusting, and unnatural. 

Everything is slipping away. Everything is fading away. There is no more enjoyment to be felt in this life anymore. There is no more enjoyment in this non-existent life I’ve been living. There is no enjoyment to be found in this disillusioned heaven.

What have I done to get here? Why am I here?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed this one. I like it quite a bit (not to sound conceited or anything). Feel free to let me know how you felt about this one or leave constructive criticism if you'd like.


	3. Miasma Woods

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a short story called "Miasma Woods". (The title is a sort of indirect reference to the song "Miasma Sky" by Baths). I planned for it to be part of a bigger story, however I mainly wrote this just for something a bit fun and weird I guess. I enjoyed this one. 
> 
> Enjoy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: This contains some gore, more than mild. You might consider it to be heavy gore. There is also some pretty disturbing imagery along with the gore. There is a reference to vomit. It also contains a small amount of strong language. If any of this bothers you, I advise you not to read.

Rowan took the plunge and entered the forest. He had been apprehensive about doing so before due to its pungent scent wafting through the air around Scarlett’s home. The ecosystem in there just may have had some strange plants that give off weird smells. Maybe there were some stinky little critters. Rowan didn’t know, but he would enter and then leave knowing. 

The scent intensified tenfold the second Rowan stepped in, throwing him off guard. He sturdied himself against a tree and took a deep breath. Then he assured himself that he could indeed do this. 

He took a few more steps, the miasma caused the trees and ground to sway. He stepped in something. What was it? A squish and a squelch beneath his feet. He tried to look, but everything was moving. He swore he was standing still. Perhaps the world was revolving at an exceptionally high speed at that moment causing a hyperdimensional shift? Is that how it worked? Rowan’s mind swirled with thoughts, mainly incoherent nonsense. 

Rowan stepped forward again. Squish. Squish. Squish. He laughed. 

“How fun!” he exclaimed in absolute delight. Whatever he was stepping all over was quite the fun thing to step on. The squishing continued. However, he was still dizzy and soon fell over, or maybe he slipped. Rowan was unaware and ran his hands across the ground. 

His hands ran over something… unpleasant. He attempted to feel what it was, now out of his dazed state. What was that? There was a familiar squish, the squish he felt beneath his boots. It was slippery too. The ground was filled with strange fruits. Tasty, slippery, squishy, reddish fruits. They must have been strawberries. Where were the seeds? Rowan sniffed the air once more for the tell-tale fruity scent. 

However, the putrid miasma filled his nostrils once more. 

Oh? What was this? The lights came on. Rowan could see again, or at least he became aware of his vision once more. He could see the strawberries! Oh, the delicious fruits of his labor! ‘Twas a blessed day indeed! Did he even work for these? He took a moment to assure himself that he did work for the delicious fruits. He conquered a fear, and so the gods rewarded him. Wait, did they believe in something around here? Did Rowan even believe? He couldn’t remember. 

Rowan didn’t really care about anything though. He just wanted to eat the strawberries. He held one in his hands and took a good look at it. A plump, juicy strawberry. These strawberries were massive and horribly misshapen. Although he supposed the one he held in his hands was almost shaped like a strawberry. It was most likely the fact that they were Antarctican strawberries. That made sense to Rowan. 

He grabbed another. Which looked more delectable? Moreover, why didn’t Scarlett take advantage of this strawberry heaven almost right outside her house? There were strawberries as far as the eye could see. Rowan couldn’t even see the outside of the woods anymore. Where were the trees? 

He found a tree a bit in the distance. Its strong, leafy branches extending for what seemed like miles. Its thick trunk was surrounded by vines. He walked over to the tree, dropping the strawberries that he held. 

“Hello, you are a beautiful tree,” he smiled at the tree. It smiled back. Trees are really nice.

“Thank you. I have just showered. I feel relieved.” 

“A shower? There is a shower here?”

“Yes, right over there,” the tree motioned a branch to somewhere east. Rowan nodded.

“Of course. That looks like a lovely shower. Thank you, Tree. Oh wait… Shall I call you Mr. or Mrs. or are you a Ms.? Or something else altogether?”

“I am a Mr., but I haven’t a need for formalities. Call me Joe.” 

“Joe? I like that name. Thank you, Joe. I hope we meet again,” Rowan waved goodbye and Joe did the same. 

Rowan skipped along to the shower. He was elated. A shower would be so refreshing. Maybe he could become a beautiful tree too. 

Rowan stripped down and turned on the shower. He really felt like one with nature. The warm water against his skin was almost euphoric. He had never felt this refreshed or delighted in his life. 

He put his clothes, which were also fresh and smelled of peppermint, back on and walked back over to the tree. Looking around, he could not seem to find the tree. Where was it? Where was Joe? 

Rowan wanted to cry. Where was Joe? He wanted to thank the elusive plant for its services, but it was nowhere to be seen. 

“Joe!” Rowan shouted, but to no avail. The tree just could not be found. How could such a mighty tree hide so easily? Rowan frowned.

He tried to walk further, but soon the miasma returned. He fell to the ground. Splat! Now the strawberries were squished. Why did he have to go and screw everything up?

“Where am I?” Rowan asked aloud. 

The trees were back, towering over Rowan with their menacing branches. He wished that he could shrink to the size of a strawberry. Although maybe a grape would have been wiser. Rowan swore he saw a grape too. There was a little green grape rolling around. Wasn’t there? 

His ground vision returned. Now he could see the ground. He could see the trees as well, but that didn’t really matter. 

The scent went away for a split second and Rowan wished it never did. He saw everything. The strawberries were no longer fruits and neither were the grapes. 

The blood splattered across the forest floor along with the various organs scattered about were all Rowan could see. There were dismembered corpses, with their rotting flesh. Putrefaction for miles and miles. He looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood and chunks of flesh and organs. He had been squishing and playing with organs as though they were some kind of children’s slime. 

His boots were covered in dead organic matter. He was surrounded by death. These putrid woods were filled with death. The miasma was death. Everything was death. Rowan would not be able to escape. Why bother?

He looked down at the “strawberry” he once held, it was a human heart. It used to pump blood and fuel a living being. That’s what his was doing!

Rowan picked up another “strawberry” because it didn’t matter at this point. How did he even mistake this for a strawberry? This was a human brain. This organ held all of someone’s memories, feelings, ideas, personality, every single thing about them. He held a human in his hands. A dead, dismembered, fraction of a human. 

He was disgusted. He wanted to vomit. It would be a stark contrast from all the other chunks. A few chunks of animal meat and some vegetables mixed in with human chunks. Delicious, right? Rowan was completely disgusted. 

“What the fuck?” And so he vomited. 

Rowan ran out of there as fast as he possibly could. He was saturated in human blood. He would have stripped himself of his clothing if it wasn’t for the constant impending hypothermia. Frostbite was rather unpleasant. Was it more unpleasant than blood and guts though? 

Rowan decided to deal with it and just ran to Scarlett’s cottage. 

He looked like he had just gone on a killing spree and then decided to take a romantic bath with his victims. Someone probably found that hot. Didn’t some of the ladies have a thing for serial killers? Rowan wondered what was wrong with everybody. More importantly, what the fuck was wrong with him? 

He barged into the cottage and… of course. Nobody was home. Scarlett was probably out hunting or something. He honestly had no idea what she did and really didn’t care in the state he was in. 

He rushed into the shower. The shower was oh-so refreshing, even more so than whatever had went down earlier. He watched everything go down the drain in disgust. He scrubbed himself once more for good measure. 

Now for the clothes. Rowan examined his coat, it was a wonderful coat. It kept him warm in this unforgiving weather. Couldn’t he spare an outfit? Did he really need these pants that were saturated since he literally sat in a pool of blood? He could find another coat. He was pretty sure Scarlett had one laying around. 

He wrapped a towel around his waist and looked for another coat. He checked the closet that was in the hallway. Sure enough, there was a coat. A nice coat that fit him well. He’d take that. He grabbed some other clothes from his room and then dressed himself. 

He would have to just clean the boots, he didn’t have another pair and it was fine if they were a bit dirty. He’d get another pair in town. 

Grabbing a trash bag, he threw all of those nasty clothes into it and tied a tight knot. He then walked outside the house, ran to the woods, which were not very far, and tossed that shit in there. 

Vowing to never return into that abomination, he breathed a sigh of relief and returned home to await Scarlett’s return.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading this, I hope you enjoyed! Again, I really enjoyed this one and had a fun time writing it a while ago. Also, again, this was supposed to be a part of something bigger, but this bit can stand alone. Please feel free to tell me how you felt about this one or leave constructive criticism. Thank you.


End file.
